No, I'm Not Lost in a Black Hole

I wish I could be one of those daily bloggers, or a weekly blogger. I'd settle for being a semi-regular-basis blogger! I began with good intentions, but have fallen into the swirling vortex that is life. I feel like a Catholic going to confession..."Forgive me, for my last blog was in July."


Today, though, is an anomaly in the vortex. Today is The Day After Thanksgiving. Some people celebrate a holiday today, called Black Friday. They celebrate by waking up before God to spend hours searching for parking spaces, standing in line, and relieving themselves of much cash. Myself, I do not subscribe to such nonsense. I prefer to save my early rising, parking space fighting and line standing for the 24th of December.

So today, the office is closed. As are a number of businesses that I would call on. The two major events that have been occupying my mind over the past week, namely a business trip to Montreal and Thanksgiving Day, have passed. These events coupled together have created, however brief, a slowing of the tailspin. Look! Time to write!

I don't MIND being busy. I have a fun-loving husband, who will, at a moments notice say something like, "Let's go meet Shawn and Cheryl at La Carreta," (which I can never pass up, and which we need to do again soon). I have two beautiful, busy daughters whom I would (and sometimes do) run to the ends of the earth for. And I have a job that I love, interacting with great people, yet driving 400-5oo miles per week for. I know that just by having these things I am incredibly blessed, and I try to be thankful for them everyday, not just Thanksgiving Day.







We went to my sister Amy's house for Thanksgiving dinner this year. After having arrived home from Montreal quite late on Wednesday night, I opted to sleep in and missed the traditional Thanksgiving breakfast of chicken pie. (Sounds strange, I know. But 7 generations of Maxfields can't be wrong!) I understand that there were thirty-five (!) guests for breakfast. Compared to that number, the group of fourteen that we were for dinner seems small!


The best part about Thanksgiving at Amy's is the fact that, all year long, she has the forethought to save and wash multitudes of plastic food containers, so that everyone can take home ample leftovers. Which I did. Unashamedly.


It took me until mid-afternoon today to get hungry, after all I ate at dinner yesterday. So, I said to my husband, John, "I'm going to do something with those leftovers, are you interested in joining me?" "No, thanks," he said, "I'm 'all set' with leftovers." Poor man. He was imagining a plate of rubbery microwaved turkey accompanied by dry mashed potatoes. What I actually created was very different, and I felt the need to share my newfound knowledge with you while you likely have an abundance of the same ingredients in your fridge. Keep in mind that I threw this together with what I had in my to-go box. Measurements are not exact and ingredients are only a suggestion. Feel free to toss in some sweet potatoes, carrots, or even some green-bean casserole!










Thanks for Giving Leftovers
Serves 2


Ingredients:

1 Cup mashed potatoes
1/2 cup prepared stuffing (ours uses Italian sausage-yummy)
1/2 cup finely chopped leftover turkey
1 egg
3/4 cup Panko breadcrumbs
2 Tbs olive oil, for frying


In a medium bowl, combine potatoes, stuffing, and turkey. Mash together well with a fork. Using hands, form mixture into patties, about the size you would for hamburgers. Set aside.

In a wide, shallow bowl, beat egg together with a couple tablespoons of water.

In another wide, shallow bowl, place bread crumbs.

Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Place patties into egg mixture, then bread crumbs. Place in pan, leaving room for turning. Brown on one side, turn and cook until brown on both sides and heated through. Place on serving plate and top with reheated leftover gravy.

From Good Stock

Today I had an older gentleman remark that I looked younger than my actual age. He thought that I looked like I should be in my early twenties. When I told him that I was actually on the downhill end of my thirties, he replied,"Well, you must come from good stock."

Which got me thinking about good stock. The definition of "stock" he was referring to is "the person from whom a given line of descent is derived." However there are many other definitions for the word "stock." For instance it can refer to the trunk of a tree or main stem of a plant, or the wooden piece to which the barrel and mechanism of a rifle are attached, or the raw material from which something is made (like cardstock), or even a broth that is a foundation for soups or sauces.

A-hah! Now that's something I can relate to. The stock can make or break a dish. With good stock you can make a hearty soup or a rich gravy, or even add flavor to simple things like rice or mashed potatoes. In a can, or the ever-so-handy resealable carton, I have my favorite brand. But it's so easy to make my own, that's often what I'll do.

Strip a roast chicken of all its meat and what's left, toss into a big pot. Add an onion, a carrot, a celery stick, and a clove or two of garlic, if you like. Cover and simmer over low heat for a couple hours. Strain out all of the solid stuff, and you're left with good stock. You would be surprised how much better something will taste when made with your own stock.

These photographs are, from top to bottom: My Mother, My Father and Mother, My Maternal Grandparents, and my Great Great Great Grandmother(!). I guess I do come from some pretty good stock, actually.

The Start of Something

Growing up, my parents seemed extremely old-fashioned to me. It stands to reason, since she was forty two and he fifty eight when I was born. I was raised on a small farm in a small town where family ties and traditions ran (and still do run) deep.

Ours was the kind of family that sat down to dinner (meat, potatoes, and two vegetables) every night at the same time. I can remember fighting that tooth and nail...I wanted to eat in the living room, or stay at my friends house an extra half hour...but supper was at 5:30 and we ate together. I was expected to be there. And there was no leaving the table until we were all done. Dessert too.

At the time, all I wanted was to eat, fill my stomach, and be on my way to the next adventure. But looking back, a lot happened around that table. Stories were told, histories were passed on, and lessons were learned, even if we didn't know it then.

Now that I'm grown, I love family dinners. But with a busy family like mine, meals with everyone around the table are few and far between. My husband rides his bicycle with friends two to three nights a week. My girls go to their dads. My other girls live with their mom and are only here every other weekend, or sometimes less.

But no matter what table I'm sitting at, there are always stories to tell, news to share, jokes, recipes, and secrets to pass on. This is my reason for starting this blog, to share what I have learned around the table. Be it my mothers table, my friends table, the restaurant down the street, or my own kitchen table, I want to share it as though we were all sitting around the same table.